The Family Hedge
by Dailenna
Summary: [Royai] Having looked at the metaphor of the seven sins in FMA, let's now have a look at the metaphor of the family, based around Colonel Mustang's unit and a few select others.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA.

**Notes:** Look! A new mini-series! This has elements of normal FMA and AU!FMA. You'll see what I mean when we get on to the next chapter. This one is just normal. I'd like to say thanks to **Lone-Whippoorwill** for inspiring me to write this. I was going to PM you and say thanks as soon as I got the idea and started writing it, but apparently PMing you is disabled. You suggested something else, but it made me think of this, and if you hadn't made the suggestion I wouldn't have been writing it. So here we go, and I hope everyone enjoys my new 5-part miniseries (not including Prologue and Epiloge, so really it's 7-parts . . .)

* * *

"**The Family Hedge**" by **Dailenna**

**Prologue**

It has often been said that the unit under the command of one Colonel Roy Mustang was like a big family. Although odd, this is undoubtedly true. Each officer fulfilled his or her position steadily, with a mind for the care of the others in such a whole sense that it seemed true familial care. Safety became an issue when in a tight spot, because each person was so ready to keep an eye out for the safety of the others that they often put themselves into positions of trouble just so that the rest of the group didn't get hurt – which ultimately meant that others still would put themselves into further positions so that the original risk-takers wouldn't be injured.

It wouldn't take long for an observer to be able to sort the unit out, and decide who found their place in which role, because each person fit perfectly into their own niche. It seemed almost as though each role had been designed especially for the person who filled it. The whole unit had their place, and there were even a few members under different command who somehow wheedled their way into being a part of this unique family.

A general family structure compromises of some basic roles that sometimes are played by more than one person, or occasionally are all occupied by the one individual.

The first and foremost role to be filled in a family is that of the caretaker. Sometimes this person might find that they must care for themself, and themself alone, which is most often the way it is when they have no one else around them. This person will be the one to make sure the family as a whole is in good health, and that everything is provided for them. It doesn't matter whether it's a family of one or one hundred. They are the person who takes care of everyone in the most basic way.

The next role is that of the person who makes sure responsibilities are upheld. This person is often seen as the disciplinarian of the family, and depending on the manner in which they discipline and the frequency with which they do it, their family may like them more or less. A disciplinarian with too weak a hand will not be respected, and the household will become lax, achieving none of its goals, and growing up without the sense of decency and propriety their neighbours may have. A disciplinarian with too strong a hand begs to be loathed. They are often resented for keeping the rest of the family from what they want, because the other family members see punishment too often to realise its purpose. A disciplinarian with a firm hand can often get across their message that in this or that case certain behaviours are not tolerated, and that is because of the family's own good. Disciplinarians with firm hands might seem harsh while they set down the rules, but they are usually seen as fair and loving, nonetheless.

Beyond these two governing roles, there are also the people who are led and watched over by these positions. These people can be those who need to be cared for, or those who need to be given a free reign over their actions. They can be those who the rules are made for, or those who seem to be made for the rules. They can be children, adults, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, grandparents or grandchildren – it doesn't really matter. Each person has their own place in the family structure, whether they're a dominating egoist or a diminutive altruist with an inferiority complex.

A family can't thrive without differing personalities. Those with volatile characteristics butt heads with one another, finding argument after argument, and longing for the day when they don't have to be together anymore. Those with peaceful natures might be able to coexist with one another, but when they're confronted with the great, wide world, their optimistic viewpoints come to a crashing halt around their feet – unless they've become prepared for it.

When the two personalities grow up around one another, coming to understand each way of life, they are able to absorb some of the characteristics of the other sort of person. Aggressively typified people might learn how to listen to those less willing to force their opinions on others, and passive responders could learn how to speak up for themselves, and how not to feel quite so endangered by the loud, outspoken people around them. It is necessary for different personalities to be able to get to know each other over time for them to be able to get on in a world dotted with those differing viewpoints.

Colonel Mustang's unit was filled with people of every different personality trait and skill, and although they might have been so internally different, because they had been united behind the same cause for so long, they _were_ that family that outsiders may have glimpsed.

There was no doubting that every person in that small group of followers was fulfilling some special role in the Mustang family. You only have to look close enough to be able to see it all.


	2. Father

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA.

**Notes:** Here we go with the first chapter. Now we're moving on to the story itself. It's all going to be set out the same way: normal!FMA explanation, AU!FMA example of the explanation. It makes sense to start with the central member of their unit, and one of the key members of the family, so here we go :)

**

* * *

**

**Father**

Roy Mustang was quite obviously the father of his little family group. He was purpose-driven, and stumbled his way into the caretaker role, from which he kept a keen eye over all of his family members. He understood that to complete his dreams and ideals, he needed to have the support of people who would never sell him out. He needed to have a solid, reliable block of his work team to lean upon, or otherwise everything he had looked towards would be as far out of his reach as the stars in the night sky.

Starting out, Roy was just alone. He had no one to rely upon, and had no support to keep him standing when everything seemed to go wrong. He was caretaker of himself and himself alone, and although he may not have loved the existence he eked out, he could tolerate it, so long as he was working towards his goals. If no one would stand with him now, he would find them later and draw them to his side then.

---

The door swung open quickly, landing with a dull thud against the wall before bouncing back into the face of the raven-haired man trying to inch into the house. Hair fell messily around his face, and into his dark eyes. He blinked, shaking his head to try and get it out of the way.

Not exactly a tall man – but not short, either, mind you – his height wasn't helped by the way he had to hunch over a little so that the box in his arms didn't tip. If the top of the box shifted a measly eight degrees further down, the few sheets of paper on top would flutter to the ground _again_, and he'd have to stop to gather them up. He didn't want to have to do that even one more time after the two stops he'd had to make to do the same thing previously – not counting the time he had to chase the papers half way down the street because the wind blew them so elusively out of his grasp.

He pushed the door open properly with his backside, and shuffled into the house, using a hip to close it once he was inside. This was the last of quite a few boxes, now on the floor by various pieces of furniture donated by parents, friends and old neighbours. True, none of the furniture was exactly in its best condition, but as a young bachelor without more than a pinch of a career in his grasp, he couldn't exactly be choosy.

Roy Mustang was twenty-two years old and barely out of his tertiary education, if you could call it that. He was used to the lifestyle of studying at day, reading in the evenings, sleeping at night, and partying all weekend long. His bookish manner had caused a few raised eyebrows at first, but once he understood the level of sophistication which he was supposed to talk with – or without – during his social weekends, he had no problems fitting in. The fact that he was an attractive young man with a promising future also helped.

His social exploits were debateable. Every male who wasn't Roy Mustang understood one view of his success with the 'weaker' sex, and every male who was Roy Mustang understood quite a different one. From the outsider's perspective, Roy could be seen with anywhere between half and all the young women at a party eyeing him, and seemed to take advantage of that fact, disappearing with one girl on his arm only to be found a little later talking confidently with another. This happened on quite a frequent basis, and he soon managed to get quite a name for himself among other young men.

Roy's perspective was quite a different one. Although the number of women who thought him handsome was beyond his control, he never took advantage of that fact. He may have had a girlfriend from time to time, but had never been as interested in the pleasures of the flesh as others seemed to think him. Roy was an honourable man, and knew that if a lady was sufficiently under the influence of alcohol, certain types of men began to take more of an interest, and he was brought up to respect a woman's decisions, and knew that they weren't often in the best shape of mind when alcohol came into the picture. Roy often found himself guiding woozy girls to or from the bathroom, or calling a taxi when that seemed the more suitable option. Often, those who remembered afterwards would thank him and call him a sweetheart – usually leaving some sort of contact detail with him – but some would call him gay for not trying anything. Most would turn red and begin to splutter, if they saw him again, not remembering anything more than Roy's charming smile and the haste with which a taxi was called.

When it came around to it, Roy was a decent guy, and even now, after he'd had time to step back from the late nights (well, he didn't go out for the last few weekends, anyway), he was still glad he had done it. He liked to think he'd helped to make the party scene a somewhat safer place.

Roy looked at the old furniture, as though expecting it to jump into the right arrangement, and stay there. He had no idea of where he was going to put any of this junk. Well, first things first, he could make sure his bed was in order, and once that was done, and the fridge was stocked, he'd have everything he needed ready for the next day or so, and could begin sorting out things to make life enjoyable. For example, have his lounge _facing_ the battered old television he had found, rather than in the middle of the room.

Wandering through to his bedroom, he placed his box down on the mattress that belonged to the unassembled frame leaning against the wall. This would take time, but to be his own man? It was worth it.


	3. Mother

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA.

**Notes: **When I was just editing this a moment ago, I was shaking my head at myself, not really believing I wrote it. It's sort of out of character, but there are a few little things in there that give them permission to be a little like that. In my opinion, anyway. I hope you all like it, and thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

**Mother**

If Roy Mustang was the father of the family group, then it took less than a millisecond to realise that Riza Hawkeye was the mother. Not just because she was the only woman in the unit itself, but also because of the way that she kept a close eye on Roy, as though without her care he would sign his own hand instead of the papers he was working with.

In falling into the position of mother, Riza Hawkeye had also become the disciplinarian. Although she stood back and let those in the unit have a rather free reign, if anyone stepped out of line it wouldn't be long until she gave them a quick word, and they'd apologise, looking abashed at their actions.

As disciplinarian and mother-figure, it was hard to act alone in the office. Riza relied on support from her commanding officer, and when he backed her up she was able to take control of the situation and turn it out to the best result.

---

She first walked into his house a few years after he had bought it. Since that first disorganised visit, the furniture _had_ found their places, and if he hadn't been in the habit of using it all, it wouldn't have been in the state of disrepair that it was when her eyes stopped passing over everything and took the time to absorb it all.

Blonde hair framed her face, falling past her shoulders, and a side-fringe tickled at one eyebrow, where it hung loosely. The eyes beneath the eyebrows were a rich brown that seemed to spark with a wine-red glow when the light hit them in just the right way. Her features were arranged in a quietly pretty manner that spoke of utter awareness of her surroundings, and the light pyjamas she wore gave her a look of comfort that neither coincided with the way the cogs in her brain were ticking, nor with the thoughtful pair of arms crossed beneath her breasts.

A familiar black-haired man padded up behind her, moving her hair aside to place a kiss on her neck, and his arms about her waist. Riza Hawkeye . . . er . . . _Mustang_ clicked her tongue in irritation.

"You're going to need to get some new furniture," she said.

"_We're_ going to need to get some new furniture," Roy corrected.

The contemplative expression remained on Riza's face, but a small smile twitched at the corners of her lips. Nevertheless, she pointed out the state of the lounge as a valid reason for heading to town and finding something that didn't have a cover worn so thin anyone seated upon it could feel the springs beneath.

"That lounge has served me faithfully ever since I stepped foot into this house," he retaliated, looking put out when she wriggled out of his grasp and began to analyse the conditions of his worn-looking seats and scratched tables. "Besides, we don't have the money to buy new things yet."

"Oh, we will," she told him, repositioning her hands so that one sat on her hip, and the other moved between having its fingers chewed on, and silently rearranging the room. "I'll have to sell whatever of mine doesn't fit in here, or we could swap some of my furniture for some of yours."

He frowned, then rolled his eyes and strolled out into the kitchen. He checked there was enough water before flicking the kettle on, and then put a few slices of bread into the toaster. After yawning so widely he was sure he could have fit a whole rockmelon into his mouth, he started pulling toppings out of his poorly maintained fridge and cupboards. A knife and plate were fetched, and it wasn't long before the toast was done, a nice dark brown on either side.

"Do you want any toast?" Roy called out into the lounge room.

"Yeah, that'd be nice," was the distracted answer.

"How many slices?"

"Two would be good, thanks."

Two more slices of bread found their way into the toaster, and Roy began spreading peanut butter and jam on the two already done. He had already taken a bite out of one slice before he remembered the kettle had boiled, and found a pair of mugs.

"Tea or coffee?" he called out.

"Oh, I'll get those," said a voice behind him.

Roy handed the mugs over to Riza, who went about getting the hot drinks ready. "You'll have coffee, won't you?" she asked, even as she scooped the instant mixture into his cup.

"Yeah," he grinned. It hadn't taken her long to figure out how to make his coffee, and even before that she had caught on to just how often he had it.

"I don't mind what else you choose to keep, so long as you get rid of that lounge," she told him, pouring the hot water into the mugs before her.

His bottom lip stuck out in a child-like pout and his arm slid around her back. "But I like that lounge," he said, kissing the side of her mouth.

"I'm sure you do," was the reply as she returned the favour. "You taste like peanut butter."

"We could make some memories there," he continued, and he felt her smile beneath his lips. Her arms wound around his neck, and his own smile grew as they backtracked out of the kitchen and into the lounge room.

They had made their way to the offending lounge and were beginning to make themselves comfortable when she gave an un-Riza-like squeak, and jumped, prying him off her and turning around to look at the offending spring that had bit into her back.

He looked at her in pitiful confusion as she scrambled off the couch, scowling and rubbing at her back. "You're going to have to get a new lounge," she told him forcefully. A cheeky smirk appeared on her face. "Or I _will_ have to punish you."

The grin was back on his face in no time, and when he leapt up from the admittedly _very_ uncomfortable lounge to make a dive for her, she squealed and disappeared into their bedroom, Roy hot on her heels.

The half-made breakfast was left to grow cold, and the smell of burning toast filled the kitchen.


	4. Children

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA.

**Notes:** Here we are, ready for the next chapter! Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, alerted, and/or favourited!

**

* * *

**

**Children**

Colonel Mustang's unit had had parental figures long before the children of the group arrived. Of course, this is how it works in normal families as well, so it didn't cause too much of a problem.

Edward and Alphonse Elric weren't the easiest of children to take care of at all times. Edward openly insulted Colonel Mustang, allowing his rage to get the better of him. His undeniable obsession with his height made him hard to nurture, and although Alphonse would nervously wait for his brother to calm down, it always took time. Alphonse didn't seem to be the horror his brother was, on the surface, but somehow he always managed to get caught in the middle of the same big mess.

---

Alphonse's eyes flew open at the sound of the wail beginning in the other bed. The room was dark, and there wasn't even the normal sliver of light shining through their doorway, where Mummy and Daddy left the door open a little. That meant that even the big people had gone to bed by now.

The shadows were tall and eerie, and it sounded like someone was tapping on the window. Lips quivering, Alphonse pulled the blanket covers over his head so that anything outside couldn't see him, and joined in his older brother's wail.

There was a creak, and he knew that someone had just pushed open the door to the room he and Edward shared. He clamped his mouth shut so that he wouldn't attract the intruder's attention. Alphonse's eyes were wide open, and he didn't dare shut them. His fisted hand held the covers down against his pillow as hard as it could, so that not even a little bit of him was visible. Maybe whoever it was wouldn't see him. He gasped as the covers were flung back . . .

And let out a cry of relief when the person looming over him was only his mother. Tears trickled down his face and he held his arms out for her to hug him, only just registering that Edward was standing beside her, clutching at the pants of her summer pyjamas like they were the only thing keeping him safe. Edward sniffed, wiping the back of his hand under his nose, and Riza reached out and picked Al up instead of just hugging him.

She settled him on one hip and ran a reassuring hand through Edward's hair. "Come on, you can sleep with me and Daddy tonight."

"Mmhmm," Edward hummed through another sniff, and Alphonse clung to his mother as she took the both of them out and through the lounge room into the room she and their father shared.

As they climbed into the big bed, their half-asleep father gave a moan of recognition. Riza climbed in after them, effectively putting a barrier between the children and the shadows. She closed her eyes to sleep, and Alphonse watched her for a moment with eyes accustomed to the dark, before snuggling into her side.

He had very nearly drifted off to sleep when a reedy "Daa-ad" from beside him brought him back to consciousness.

"Dad," Edward repeated a little more urgently now. "Dad!"

"What is it?" Roy finally replied in gravely tones. Alphonse could hear the sound of sleep in his voice, and knew that he hadn't been far from it when Edward had begun his call.

"I can't get to sleep," Edward sniffed.

"Have you tried counting sheep?"

"Doesn't work."

"What about singing yourself to sleep?" Roy suggested, both of his eyes still closed shut.

There was a pause, and Alphonse waited for Edward to burst out in his renditions of the Mother Goose Nursery Rhymes they had tucked into a book somewhere in the house. Instead there was another tuneless comment.

"Can you do it for me?"

A grunt emerged from Roy's direction. "Why can't you do it, Eddy?"

"Don't know anything to sing."

"Sure you do."

"Roy . . ."

This time Riza had spoken, her tone hinting at a warning. Alphonse recognised it as the sort of voice she used when she caught Edward trying to skip his bath-time. He felt her moving beneath him, rolling over onto her back, and he moved a little to get more comfortable.

Roy sighed, now somewhat awake, due to Edward's poking at his side. "Alright, alright. Let's see . . . _There were four in the bed, and the little one said_–"

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT YOU'D SQUISH HIM IF YOU ROLLED OVER!?"

Alphonse gave an involuntary whimper and put his hands over his ears. Edward was thrashing around in the bed, and Riza made an angry noise while clutching at the blankets so that Edward's movement didn't gather all of the sheets.

"Calm down," Roy was saying, much more awake now. "It's just a song! Besides, you're four years old – of course you're short!"

This did nothing to alleviate Edward's little tantrum, and Riza put an arm around Alphonse, drawing him closer so that Edward didn't hit him by mistake. "Don't provoke him, Roy!" she hissed. "You know what he's like!"

"He shouldn't get so riled up," Roy replied, sounding just as annoyed as he tried to hold Edward at arms' length, so that the boy's flailing fists couldn't reach their mark.

Riza reached over to her other son. "It's okay, Edward, Daddy didn't mean it. He's just being stubborn. Incidentally, unless he stops being like that, there'll only be _three_ in the bed tonight."

The high pitched "What–!?" that emerged from Roy's mouth was followed by a grumble, but it seemed that Edward had calmed down a little.

"Ha ha – Daddy has to sleep on the couch!" Edward crowed, still kicking a little.

"Yeah, 'ha ha', very funny," Roy replied, countering "Unless you stop acting childishly, you're going back to your own bed."

Alphonse could see Edward poking his tongue out in the dark. It seemed that Riza had seen it too, because she soon said "Listen to your father, Edward. _He's_ calmed down. So should you."

Everyone took a deep breath and settled back to get to sleep. It only took a moment for Edward to say "Where's my song?"

Roy sighed. "Okay, like I was saying before. _There were four in the bed, and the little–_"

"MUMMY, HE'S STILL CALLING ME LITTLE!! I'M NOT SHORT – I'M BIGGER THAN AL!"

It only took Edward's outburst to make Roy snap. "Just _shut up_! I _wasn't_ calling you short!"

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air around the big bed, and Alphonse tried his best to shrink away from the argument by burrowing under the covers, eyes wide open.

"You do _not_ yell at the children, Roy," Riza said in acidic tones.

"Daddy said a swear!" Edward proclaimed gleefully.

"And you know not to say 'shut-up' around them either," she added.

"But Riza, he–!"

There was a morbid silence, and Alphonse couldn't hear anything being said, but he knew that Mummy was giving Daddy one of her glares. It was one of the only things that made him go quiet all of a sudden like that.

"He just–!" Roy tried again, in vain, only to be met with Riza's evil glare again.

Finally, Daddy groaned, and Alphonse felt the mattress rise. He peeked the top of his head out from under the covers so that he could see, and watched Roy take one of his pillows and retreat out into the lounge room.

A satisfied cackle came from what was now Edward's side of the bed, and he sighed happily. "Mummy, can you tell us a bedtime story?"

There was silence, and Alphonse saw Riza's eyes train on her elder son, just as focussed as they had been on her husband moments before.

Edward's lower lip wobbled. "But it wasn't my fault," he whined.

The silent glare continued, until eventually Edward slid out of bed, grumbling, and stormed out of the room to head back to his own bed, stomping loudly every step of the way there.

When he was gone, Riza turned onto her side and closed her eyes, still looking a little put out. Alphonse felt slightly intimidated, but he snuggled closer.

". . . I love you, Mummy."

Riza sighed. "At least one of the three children in this house knows how to behave himself," she muttered, running a hand through Alphonse's hair.

Alphonse smiled, feeling better now that she looked happier, and he closed his eyes to sleep.


	5. Siblings

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA.

**Notes:** Here we go with the next chapter! My favourite paragraph has to be the Santa one. It's the sort of thing that I want to tell little kids, but I don't because it'll mess them up too much. I figure their parents lying to them is worse than someone else doing it, because you're supposed to be able to trust your parents. Needless to say, I was never told Santa Claus was real, and although I don't remember it, I'm pretty sure I'm that annoying little kid who spoiled it for everyone in Kindergarten. Anyway! Read on! Thanks for reading, reviewing, alerts and faves :D

**

* * *

****Siblings**

Although each little family has its own "Inner Circle", there are still the remains of old Inner Circles to take into account. These remains are sometimes more a part of the family than at other times.

Jean Havoc, Heymans Breda, Vato Falman and Kain Feury were like the brothers Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye never had. They were comradely, played pranks, had bets, and overall were very protective of their 'brother' and 'sister', not to mention their dear little 'nephews'.

Every part the uncle-with-an-addiction, uncle-too-smart-for-his-own-good, uncle-who-knows-everything, and uncle-with-a-soft-spot, these four took every opportunity to help the Elric boys out, when they could, or were allowed – sometimes the boys denied their aid.

Their role in the family was to support their siblings in all areas necessary, and to do any parenting that the Colonel and Lieutenant might have forgotten about.

---

The table was full. Six grown men and woman made the place very squashy, and not another chair would have fit around the little card-table, had they tried to put it in. It was a good thing that the children were still comfortable on their parents' laps, otherwise there wouldn't have been enough room.

Jean took one look at the cake with all of its candles on top, and then gave permission for the birthday boy to blow them out. Roy leant forwards and got them all with three breaths.

"You didn't get them in one blow – that means your wish won't come true," little Edward pointed out. Starting school this year had meant that he had picked up on a lot of superstitions that other families either believed, or taught their children for the fun of seeing them squirm. He had adopted this one readily, but had complained that Santa Claus didn't give him presents – he only got them from his mother and father. Edward had been sure he'd missed out on the jackpot when he found out that snippet of information. When he told Uncle Jean, Jean had chuckled and told him that if his parents were giving him presents that meant they loved him more, and maybe Santa Claus only gave presents to the children whose parents didn't love them. Edward had nodded sagely at this, and a few weeks later when the topic was brought up again, he said that little Russell Tringham hadn't liked hearing that, and he'd cried in the boys' toilets for all of lunch time. Their teacher had given Edward a very harsh talking to about other people's feelings, but he still didn't understand why he got in trouble if he was just telling the truth.

"Ahh, I'll just have to try again next year, won't I?" Roy said, leaning back into his chair.

"If- If it's not going to come true anyway, tell us what you wished, Daddy," Alphonse said, squirming around in his father's lap so that he could look at his face.

They all waited patiently, and Jean heard Heymans snigger beside him.

"Daddy wished for a new car," Roy finally told them, his eyes wide enough to say that he was feeling somewhat unsettled.

The various uncles made their sounds of agreement. If using a birthday wish was all it took to get a new car or spruce up their houses, they'd have birthday parties every month.

Roy tried to explain to his sons why he wanted a new car – they claimed theirs was still a bit new, and they didn't want a different one already – helped by his brother Vato's encyclopaedic knowledge of his very model and make of car, and that of a keenly superior model that he could use as a reference for a 'better car'.

As they spoke, Jean picked up the cake and took it away to the kitchen counter to start cutting it up. While he was figuring out how many people there were, and how many slices he'd need to cut, Heymans got up and come to the cupboard, looking for a drink.

"New car, my foot," he muttered to Havoc as he took out a glass. "Did you see the look on his face before he blew the candles out? And the trapped look when the kids started asking?"

Jean looked up. "What do you mean?"

"That was no car wish – that was a sex wish."

Jean recoiled, face screwed up in horror. He dashed a look towards the people at the table, who still seemed to be trying to explain to the boys, and then looked back at Heymans' conspiratorial expression. "That's dirt, Manny. I don't want to think about him and Riza – she's our sister!"

The conspiratorial expression dropped, and Heymans looked at him as though he was stupid. "How do you think they had Ed and Al, dipstick?"

"Shut up. I know, but . . ." Jean set his eyes on the cake and started making the cuts. "I don't want to think about it."

Heymans grabbed the cider out of the fridge and poured some into his glass. "I will bet you fifty dollars that by the end of the day, Ed and Al will end up staying at your house, or at my house, or Vato's, or Kain's. Whatever happens after that we don't need to know." He looked up, an amused smile just waiting on his face.

"Fine," Jean told him, making the last cut. "_Just_ that the kids end up somewhere else. No more."

They shook hands briefly, and then Heymans went back to his seat with his cider, and Jean began taking cake around to everyone. It wasn't until he finally sat back down in his own seat that Riza said "Okay, that's enough boys. No, we don't need a new car, and that's why it's good that Daddy's wish didn't come true."

They thanked Jean for the cake, and then began eating, and the conversation slowly drifted off onto other topics.

A few hours later, just before everyone was getting sick of the company and wanted to be at home, Jean was playing a game of indoor cricket with the boys. This meaning that they held onto a cardboard roll and he threw a pair of socks for the ball, and then when they hit the socks they'd run around squealing and flailing their arms, because they still didn't have the concept of the game down properly. The most annoying thing about it was that socks didn't bounce, so he had to throw it to them on the full. He'd play it with a tennis ball if he thought they'd be able to handle it, but he wasn't sure what their catching skills were like, let alone their ability to judge how a ball would bounce.

The partnership of the Mustang kids was reaching an all time high – four runs – when Riza came in and stopped the game for a moment, to talk to the kids.

"It'll just be a second, Jean, then you can go back to your game" she said, with a quick smile in his direction.

Jean nodded and stood back, tossing the 'ball' in his hands while he waited.

Ed and Al wandered over to their mother, and she crouched down to be at the boys' eye level. "How would you two feel about staying at Uncle Kain's tonight?"

Jean dropped the pair of socks in surprise. No wait, he hadn't lost the bet yet. She was only asking if they wanted to. There was still the chance that-

"Yaay! Uncle Kain's!" Al said, jumping up and down.

Ed looked a bit more hesitant, and Jean bit his lip, hoping that the kid could hold out. The boy looked at his brother still dancing around the room with his little kid shrieks of joy, and said "Okay," as though the word was forced out of him.

Feeling cheated – why, Al? Why? – Jean bent over to pick up the socks, scowling. There was a pause in their little conversation, but then Riza asked "What's the matter, Edward? Don't you like being at Kain's?"

Maybe there was hope after all. She wouldn't force the kid to go to his uncle's, sounding this depressed about it, would she?

"Yeah, it's just . . . all the cats . . ." the boy said, pouting.

Riza put her head to one side. "I thought you liked cats."

Ed sniffed. "I do, but when Al's there he always plays with them, and they play with him, but they won't play with me." He wiped a hand at his nose.

"Ohh," she sighed, hugging him loosely. "That could be because Al's the one who feeds them when you're both over there. Maybe if you feed them they'll like you."

Ed was quiet, as though pondering this idea. Jean kept his eyes on the kid, repeating encouragements over and over in his mind. _Come on kid, don't give in now. You're almost there – just say you don't want to, and she'll stop asking-_

"Alright," said a slightly happier Ed.

Jean scowled, saying goodbye to that fifty dollars.

"Okay," Riza nodded, "so you and Al will be staying at Uncle Kain's tonight."

"Yeah."

She smiled and stood up. "Alright. Daddy and I will come and say goodbye when we're going, so that you know." With a kind look for her older son, and a sharp word for her younger – "Alphonse, stop jumping on the lounge. You don't want to break any of Uncle Jean's furniture." – she headed back into the next room.

Jean sighed. "So what was the score, then, boys?" he asked, while mentally answering his own question. Breda: 1, Jean: 0.

Some time later, when the boys were losing interest, Jean let them wander off to pester another uncle. He sat down and turned the television on, flicking through channels until he came upon a replay of last night's football. Roy had mentioned missing it the night before – they had gone out for dinner – so Jean went and found him.

"Actually, we're about to head home," Roy told him, looking apologetic. "Let me know what the score is, though."

He and Riza found the boys and said their goodbyes, and Jean thought that now was a better time than ever to go outside and have a smoke.

There was a little commotion of goodbyes from inside the house as Havoc lit his cigarette up, checking the wind first so that wherever he stood wouldn't blow the smoke back into the house – not when the kids were still there, anyway.

He'd just found a good spot around the corner when he heard the front door open and close. Roy and Riza must have just left the house now. That guess was soon confirmed by the sound of their voices as they chatting on the walk to their car.

"For a moment there I thought Ed wasn't going to agree to staying at Kain's. Turns out he just felt left out."

"Ahh, poor kid," Roy's voice said, with a laugh.

"Yeah," Riza's voice agreed. Then the tone of her voice changed completely. "Now let's see what we can do about that birthday wish of yours . . ."

Jean clamped his hands over his ears, knowing full well that that phrase, rather than his nephews, was going to be the way he remembered that his little sister was no longer innocent.


	6. Extended Family

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA.

**Notes:** Only the epilogue after this, people, and it's not all that long. How sad. Still, I enjoyed writing these little pieces, and I'm glad to hear from my reviewers that they like reading them. Thank you for your kind support. I wasn't sure if the family relationship here came out properly or a little jumbled, so I'm going to make a note about it at the end that you can read, if you're getting confused about it. Thanks again! Please review!

* * *

**Extended Family**

If families have their Inner Circles, then they have to have their Outer Circles as well. Mustang's group was no different. Several of his followers were by no means in his unit, but were accepted as a part of the family in any case. This didn't mean that they were always around – not even family is around all of the time – but rather that when they were there, the group still felt comfortable to be the same as they ever were.

Most people have some cousin in their family that they can turn to in order to escape the madness gatherings usually create. Just like any other pair of friends, cousins don't always get along perfectly, but they're family, and it's better to have someone you can rely on than no one. This is how Maes Hughes became a part of the family.

He was whacky, and strange, and oddly obsessed with his own Inner Circle, but he was a good change to the normal weirdos the Colonel had to speak with. If his type of insanity had been around more often he would have just been one of the family, but because he wasn't there each day, his ravings were a respite from the different brands of craziness the others kept in store.

Having one cousin just isn't enough, and cousins are usually more closely related to grandparents than other cousins, because of the bloodlines, so it made sense that when Mustang's crew found their cousin, they also found a proud grandfather, and more family with him.

---

Maes Hughes had always loved weddings – they were a celebration of love, and love was one of the things he did best. He was an amiable man, who enjoyed the company of good people, and did his best to be one of them himself, although the definition of a 'good person' had been widely discussed, and they had all come to the agreement that they weren't exactly the best sort after all. So scratch that. He was an amiable man, who enjoyed the company of bad people with good intentions. He could strike up a conversation with anybody about anything, although that 'anything' was more often than not his daughter.

Speaking of his daughter . . . He turned around and spotted his wife, Gracia, with Elysia, still just walking into the reception. They'd been stopped on the way by people who recognised them, and now Maes was way ahead, having learnt how to ignore people he didn't want to speak to for those he did.

Turning back to the room, he made a beeline through to a familiar face. Who would have thought that a simple wedding would turn a cousin and his wife into a friend's new husband's cousin and _her_ husband? Of course it was an obscure link, but he liked the way that it made the circle nice and round, and if he followed it for long enough he could find himself again.

"Roy," Maes called, and the other man's head spun around to face him. "How's the family?"

Roy shrugged as Maes neared him, and spoke with the appearance of all seriousness. "Oh, they'll have to do, I suppose."

The two men grinned, and Maes passed over his latest pictures of his own family, continuing on as though nothing had just occurred. He saw Roy's roll of the eyes, but the other man took the photos anyway and pocketed them. When Maes visited him next, the one picture of his family on the mantelpiece would have changed to one of the new prints.

"I guess that this is like one big family reunion to you," Maes mused. "After all, you've got all of the wife's side, and half of your own here. Might have been best to just not come, in case Aunty Olivier whacks your noggin off its block."

Roy grimaced, but Maes laughed. He'd found quite a lot of amusement in the fact that Riza's aunt hated Roy with a passion. He hadn't seen her here yet, but it was possible she'd rejected the invitation. The woman was most likely more comfortable at home than in coming out here and having to socialise with the likes of Roy Mustang. And to think that Riza had used to be one of her favourite nieces! Before she had married Roy, that was.

From somewhere over to his left, Maes heard a commotion that led him to believe that Roy's sons had just been found by their grandfather. The two men looked over.

A large man was bent over, looking at the boys playing underneath one of the tables. "My, how you've grown! And your hair-! Blonde hair has been passed down in our family from generation to generation!"

Yes, that was Riza's father, alright. The man positively sparkled behind his moustache, and Maes heard Roy give a sigh.

"I don't know how the boys aren't afraid of him," he said. "If I was their age, someone as big and loud as that would freak me out."

Maes grinned. "I'm sure you'll cope, Roy, and it looks like they can, too. Of course, the difference between you as a kid and them now is that they match their granddad volume for volume, whereas you tended to sulk."

If he had thought the familial greeting was a commotion, it was nothing compared to the clamour that was starting up near the entrance of the hall. Voices were raised in excitement, and everyone seemed to be looking in one direction.

"I'm guessing the bridal party has just arrived," Maes said not a moment too soon. Maria and Denny walked in, arm-in-arm and both a little red, thanking the people around them for the congratulations they were receiving. Maria looked wonderful, of course, and Maes sent a grin in her direction when she looked over. The two of them had been work colleagues for a while, and good friends.

"I suppose I should find Riza," Roy considered, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Alright, don't get yourself in a fuss about it," Maes grinned.

Riza, as Denny's cousin and one of Maria's good friends, had been made a bridesmaid. Roy was just upset because she would be sitting at the head table with them, while he had to sit with other guests. Maes wouldn't have been as amused by this as he was if he didn't know how much Roy loathed making small talk. Except for when it got him out of work, that was. Riza had a way of rescuing him from any unwanted conversations that he adored her for.

Roy began to walk off to find his wife, but Maes grabbed his arm and held him back for a moment. "It's okay, Roy," he said, still grinning. "If it's any consolation, at least the bride and groom are enjoying themselves."

Eyes following the hand Maes pointed, Roy shook his head and sighed when he caught sight of Denny and Maria glancing around before escaping the room together, Denny's hand carefully around his bride's waist.

* * *

_**Maes** is friends with **Maria**, who is now married to **Denny**, who is **Riza's** cousin, and of course Riza is married to **Roy**, who is **Maes'** cousin. Also, **Armstrong** is Riza's father and Denny's uncle, and **Olivier** is both Riza and Denny's aunt._


	7. Epilogue

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA.

**Notes:** Well, this is the end, everyone! It was good while it lasted, and thanks to everyone who hung around for it all!

**

* * *

****Epilogue**

Most families have a family tree, onto which they add each person as they were born, placing them with their parents and siblings so that every relation can be traced through lines. The people from Colonel Mustang's unit, however – and the few others who were a part of that very special family – were not of the same genetic background. They weren't grandfather, cousins, brothers, sons, wife and husband. All they were was a group of people who had been working together for a long time. They were just people who knew each other, and loved each other _like_ family.

Their family trees may not all be one and the same, but they are still something. The branches of their separate trees have grown together, moulding into the interconnecting lives they live. As each social connection is built in a different way, their family connections were built differently to that of a single tree. The growth of their individual branches has made something else. Each leaf and twig has connected to build less of a family tree, and something more along the lines of, let's say, a family hedge.

* * *

_Thanks to all of my reviewers, and readers too! I don't know what my next new project to be released will be, but I think I'm going to work on the works-in-progress for a bit, now. Thanks again, to these people:_

_Crystal Mage, Bar-Ohki, Griselda Banks, Lone-Whippoorwill, winglessfairy25, causmicfire, OTP, jacksparrow589, MoonStarDutchess, Bizzy, Legendary Chimera, Resident Quetzal, fullofmetal, Your favourite plushie, White Butterfly, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, Tsunade-chan, Riza Hawkeye 9, Vanus Empty, Natsumi Sendo, Anikitt, Anne Packrat, mustangfan29, sleepinghyunny._

_I hope to see you all again!_


End file.
